The Funeral of Vernon Dursley

On a spring day in 2005
In a cemetery in Little Whinging, Surrey

Vernon had died at age fifty-two, from "apoplexy." As soon as Petunia had borrowed one of Dudley's computers and had looked up the word online, she had nodded. Vernon's death had perfectly fit Vernon's life—Vernon had been a man always angry at the world.

Now Petunia, who was sitting under a green canopy and who sat only three feet away from Vernon's casket, looked around and saw the consequences of Vernon's angry life. Except for Dudley, none of Vernon's blood-family was here at his funeral, though at least Marge had telephoned to mumble an excuse. None of Vernon's drill-customers were attending his funeral, and only one Grunnings coworker was here. He probably drew the short straw, Petunia thought with a sigh.

Not one of the Dursleys' neighbors—not one!—from Privet Drive was here.

So who was here, waiting for the funeral to begin? Only four people: Vernon's coworker, Petunia, Vernon's and Petunia's son Dudley, and Dudley's quote-unquote girlfriend Cindy.

Cindy looked miserable, and she was fidgeting. Petunia suspected that Cindy feared a beating if she were anywhere other than here. Until a half-hour ago, Petunia would have convinced herself that Cindy deserved the beating.

Dudley turned his head toward Cindy, then started to lean toward her. But then Dudley twisted around in his seat, to look at something behind the row of chairs.

"Mum?" Dudley said in a low voice. "Behind you."

Petunia turned around—and stared.

Approaching the Dursleys from behind was her nephew Harry.

Harry was taller than when she had last seen him at seventeen, and he was more filled out. He had a beard now, and a wife or girlfriend who was holding his hand. Even as Petunia looked at the two of them, Petunia caught the-wife-or-girlfriend squeezing Harry's hand.

Petunia tried to remember if she had ever seen Dudley and a girlfriend holding hands. Petunia could not remember a single time. Then Petunia tried to remember when she and Vernon had last held hands. Before Dudley was born was her answer.

Harry stared at Petunia, and Petunia stared at Harry, as Harry and the bushy-haired brunette stepped into the shade of the funeral-canopy. A half-hour ago, Petunia would have been in her freak nephew's face, screaming that he and his freak slut better both leave "right now!" But a half-hour of not seeing mourners arrive for Vernon's funeral had forced Petunia to rethink lifelong attitudes.

Petunia thought, If James Potter were in that casket today, would Dudley have come here? Would I have come? The answers to those questions were no-brainers, and those answers shamed Petunia.

Harry stopped three feet behind the Dursleys' folding chairs. "Aunt Petunia, Cousin Dudley, I'm sorry for your loss."

Harry's female companion said nothing; instead, she was eyeing Petunia and Dudley with disgust.

Petunia had never, not even once, treated Harry with even basic courtesy, but now she said, "Would you two like to sit down? There's room enough."

Ten wooden folding chairs were set out; only three seats were filled. (The Grunnings coworker had politely refused to sit with the Dursley family.)

"Mum!" Dudley said, sounding offended.

"Hush, Dudley," Petunia said. "Behave around your cousin. I mean it."

Dudley went wide-eyed with shock.

Harry replied smoothly, "Thank you for your offer, Aunt Petunia, but my wife and I are fine with standing in the back."

"Your wife?" Dudley asked. "You mean—"

"Dudley! Behave!" Petunia commanded.

"Yes, Mum," Dudley replied sullenly.

The vicar arrived then, and Vernon's funeral service began.

After the funeral service

As Petunia watched the vicar walk away, the Grunnings coworker recited, "I'm sorry for your loss." Then he hurried away as well.

Now the only living people at the funeral were the mortician, Petunia, Petunia's son Dudley, Dudley's girlfriend Cindy—and Petunia's nephew Harry and his wife.

Petunia stood up from her wooden folding chair and walked to her right. As she passed Cindy, Petunia said, "Cindy, I'd like for you to meet Dudley's cousin. Dudley, come say hello to Harry."

"Mum, are you mental?" Dudley sputtered.

But by then, Petunia already was walking toward Lily's son, forcing her own son to catch up.

Seconds later, Petunia, Dudley, and Cindy were facing Harry and his wife.

The young woman who stood next to Harry's fat cousin was eyeing Harry with open curiosity. Hermione wondered, Does she know that Harry is a hero? Or is she trying to figure out how he's a "freak"?

Harry said smoothly, "Aunt Petunia, Cousin Dudley, this is my wife, Hermione Granger-Potter."

" 'Hermione'?" the fat man said. "What—?"

"Hush!" skinny Petunia commanded her son. Without pause, Petunia continued, "Pleased to meet you, Her ... uh, Hermione. Hermione, this is my son Dudley Dursley, and Dudley's girlfriend Cindy Lawton."

The instant that all the how-do-you-dos were spoken, Dudley said, " 'Hermione.' What kind of freak name is that?"

Now it was Harry who was squeezing Hermione's hand. But before either Harry or Hermione spoke, Cindy said timidly, "Your name is Greek, isn't it? From the old Greek stories?"

Dudley stared at Cindy, clearly shocked.

Hermione smiled at Cindy. "You've heard of Helen of Troy? 'The face that launched a thousand ships'? In mythology, Hermione was Helen's daughter."

Harry said, "My in-laws are dentists, highly educated, and I guess they decided that 'Mary' or 'Sally' was too boring a name for their daughter." Harry smiled at his wife. "Your name fits you perfectly—it's very rare, like you."

Meanwhile, Dudley was saying, "Freaks have dentists?"

Harry said calmly, "You know, Dudley, you're acting like a git, and I'm sure my wife deserves an apology from you."

Cindy hissed in fear, as Dudley puffed up. "And what if I don't feel like apologizing? Huh, freak?"

Meanwhile, Hermione noted Petunia staring at Harry as if he were a crumple-horned snorkack.

In that same calm voice, Harry said to Dudley, "Remember those things I could do when I was living with you, but I wasn't allowed to do, because I was too young? Now I'm old enough."

Hermione glared at Dudley. "I'm old enough too. Do the math: two against one. Now Dudley, you were about to apologize, I recall."

"Forget it! Dudley Dursley apologizes to nobody, and especially not—"

Hermione's hand shot up in a Stop! gesture, which silenced Dudley mid-bluster (and which made Petunia's eyebrows shoot up). Then Hermione looked at Cindy; "Does he ever hit you?"

Cindy looked panicked. "Um..."

Hermione said to Dudley, "Still waiting on the apology."

"Shut up, freak bitch!" Dudley yelled. He stepped up to Hermione—right, left—and pulled his fist back—

—as Cindy gasped, and as Petunia grabbed Dudley's forearm with both hands to stop his fist from moving.

Harry calmly remarked to Hermione, "Now you understand why I said he's like Goyle."

Hermione nodded. "He's certainly fat enough and stupid enough."

Dudley said, "Hey! Take that back, or I punch you."

Hermione said, "No. Here are your choices, mate: Apologize to me, or please swing at me. Give me an excuse to defend myself."

"You know martial arts?" Cindy blurted.

"Something worse," Petunia said fearfully. "Something much more dangerous. Dudley, behave."

Harry said calmly, "Dudley, you look stupid waving your fist about. Be smart for once, and apologize to Hermione."

Dudley glared at Harry. "You're not much of a man, are you? Here I am threatening your wife, and you don't lift a finger to defend her."

Hermione burst out laughing. "Listen up, muggle troll! Harry fought Voldemort while he was still in school. Harry fought Voldemort, and Harry killed Voldemort! If Harry isn't lifting a finger against you, it's because you're not worth his time."

Harry said, "Speaking of my time, let's go, Hermione. Dudley is still a lost cause—"

"Quitter," Dudley sneered. "You say you want an apology, but you're too much of a poofer to push me."

Ignoring Dudley's insults, Harry said, "Cindy, it was nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too," Cindy said. "Um, what does muggle mean?"

"Ask those two," Harry said. "Goodbye."

Hermione eyed Cindy. "Dump the loser. He's not worth it. I almost married a man who also was lazy, stupid, and hot-tempered, but I woke up in time—whew!"

Dudley growled.

As Harry and Hermione turned to leave, Petunia said, "Harry? I'm sorry for ... well, everything."

"Mum!" Dudley snapped.

"Please keep in touch," Petunia said to Harry. "I mean this. Lily would be proud of the man you've become."

Hermione looked at Harry's face; he looked stunned. "Thank you for telling me this, Aunt Petunia."

Harry and Hermione turned and walked away. Behind them, Dudley said, "Hey, bitch, you're not leaving after you called me—oof!" Whump!

Hermione spun around. If she had not put her wand in her purse as a safety measure, she would have instinctively quick-drawn her wand now.

Hermione saw that Dudley was lying on cemetery grass, on his stomach, with his feet and legs all together. Cindy was looking down at Dudley in confusion; Petunia's expression was fearful.

Harry remarked to Hermione, "I tied his shoelaces together. Fred and George taught me the spe—the trick, after they used it on me." Harry grinned. "Six months later, I tied all four of their laces together."

Cindy giggled. "Oh, Dudley..." She giggled again. "Your face went right into the grass!"

Dudley glared at Harry and Hermione. "You're dead, both of you!"

"Dudley, no!" cried Petunia.

Angry-looking Dudley, meanwhile, was struggling to stand up. Dudley had just achieved a kneeling position when Harry strode over and grabbed Dudley's hair.

"You want to talk about 'dead,' Dudley?" Harry growled.

Harry shoved Dudley's head back to look in Harry's face. Dudley froze motionless and wide-eyed; to Hermione, Dudley seemed like he was in shock.

As Dudley stared at Harry, Harry beckoned Hermione forward.

Then Harry spoke so quietly that only Dudley and Hermione could hear: "You've insulted my wife, several times today, and this right pisses me off. You've also done lots of stuff to me over the years that I big-time owe you for. Dudley, before we ever see each other again, think hard about this: With a wave of my wand and two spoken words, I could have killed you. Then—without touching you with my hands—I could have tossed your corpse in the coffin with Uncle Vernon, buried the coffin under six feet of dirt, and made every muggle here forget witnessing your murder. You'd have been dead, and muggle police never would have found your body. Or I could have 'merely' broken your arms in six places, and your legs in six more. Instead, I only embarrassed you in front of your girlfriend. Realize, Dudley, what I'm telling you."

Dudley did realize what the warning meant, Hermione decided: Now Dudley looked terrified of Hermione's husband.

"I apologize, Mrs. Potter," Dudley mumbled.

The End